


Halam'shivanas

by laveIIans



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Avvar Culture and Customs, Bittersweet, Break Up, Childbirth, Dalish Elven Culture and Customs, Dragon Age: Inquisition - Jaws of Hakkon DLC, Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Established Relationship, Everything Hurts, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, Everything is Complicated, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Getting Back Together, Identity Reveal, May The Dread Wolf Take You, POV Alternating, POV Lavellan, POV Solas, Parent Lavellan, Parent Solas, Parenthood, Past Relationship(s), Post-Break Up, Pregnancy, Sexual Content, Single Parents, Solavellan, The Fade, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2019-10-07 08:53:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17362916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laveIIans/pseuds/laveIIans
Summary: Dhaveira Lavellan had a strained relationship with Solas following their breakup, struggling to maintain a professional relationship while their personal one was in tatters. After an intimate night together before the final fight against Corypheus, Dhaveira was left heartbroken when Solas abandoned her and the Inquisition, leaving no trace behind.To make matters worse, she was now also pregnant, with no mate in sight.As a good friend of hers might have said, "Well, shit."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All of the Elvhen used in this story comes from the wonderful **[Project Elvhen](https://archiveofourown.org/series/229061)** by fenxshiral!
> 
>  **Halam'shivanas** means 'the sweet sacrifice of your duty' or more literally, 'do your duty to the end.'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dhaveira goes to Solas after a sleepless night and they... _reconnect_. (The second half of this chapter gets on the steamier side of things, and the next one will probably be NSFW. Just a head's up.) 
> 
> (All translations will go at the end of each chapter.)

Her heart was racing. Tomorrow would decide the fate of the world, and it was all down to her. _Creators, don’t fail me now_ , she thought to herself as her hands began to tremble.

There was no way she could sleep easily, so Dhaveira wandered the battlements instead. The soldiers she met bowed to her and exchanged words of good luck that she barely registered in her anxious state, but she smiled and thanked them anyway.

Without thinking, her feet were leading her closer to him. She didn’t realise until she entered the rotunda that she had walked there on instinct, seeking the comfort he used to give her. The gentle words in hushed whispers that were for her ears alone, the embraces that covered her like a warm blanket and made her feel safe and whole, even for a moment… Those were things he would never give her now or again, not after Crestwood.

Dhaveira felt her heart catch in her throat, and she could not help a little sob escape her as she turned away. She was about to leave him behind for the last time when he lifted up his face and looked at her.

He had been bent over his desk, peering over a weighty tome and no doubt seeking any last advantage for the battle that he could glean from it, yet from his expression, she could tell he had been too distracted even before she arrived to read the words on the pages.

“Inquisitor,” he said, affecting a calmness that she knew neither of them felt.

“You called me Dhaveira once.” She walked closer to him slowly, the way one might approach a startled beast, but he stiffened and avoided her gaze.

“It was a different time.” Solas shook his head, and she could easily imagine him tutting at her. “This will only distract you when you need all your focus for tomorrow. You should be asleep,” he added, sounding for all the world like a frustrated parent.

It was so ridiculous that Dhaveira couldn’t help laughing. “Then so should you. You’re coming with me tomorrow, whether you like it or not.”

Solas looked as if she had slapped him, and she instantly regretted her choice of words. “ _Ir abelas, vhenan_ ,” she said quietly, unthinking; the old, familiar endearment slipped from her out of instinct. 

It only seemed to worsen the effect on him. “Why did you come here?” he asked, his voice sounding strained and oddly hollow.

“Why did you come here?” he asked, his voice sounding strained and oddly hollow.

This was not the Solas she knew or remembered. There had never been so much distance between them; now it was practically a physical entity.

_It was a different time. Harden your heart to a cutting edge._ Those were the words he had told her all those months ago, and she had left the room in a flood of tears.

Dhaveira chose to ignore them.

“I couldn’t sleep, and I knew you could probably brew a potion that would help or cast a spell. _Anything_.” Her voice caught on the last word, yet he acted as if nothing was out of place.

“If you give me a moment, I can prepare something that may be of use.” Solas turned his back on her without another word as he moved the tome to one side, placing down a mortar and pestle. “I must go to the herb garden and gather the ingredients.”

As he walked out of the rotunda, she followed him.

“Inquisitor?” He sounded surprised, looking over his shoulder at her.

Dhaveira sighed. “Is it a crime to follow you? Were you really going to leave me alone while you went to pick herbs? Besides, two can make faster work than you alone.”

“My apologies.” Solas said curtly, walking more briskly.

All of this frustrated her deeply. He was putting on a great show of laying down boundaries and creating distance between them. It was deeply condescending, but the fact he was pretending to be so unaffected rankled her more than she could put into words.

It was as if the year they had been lovers and all they had shared together meant nothing to him, and it was something that could be easily shrugged aside, locked away and forgotten about. Perhaps it was easy for him to forget, but it was also much easier to lie.

Dhaveira was quietly fuming to herself as they reached the garden and Solas indicated the herbs he needed. “Royal elfroot, prophet’s laurel, and dawn lotus. If you pick one of each, that should be strong enough to last the night.”

“Why don’t _you_ pick something?” she snapped. “Otherwise I have to do all the work.”

Solas was taken aback before nodding with a sigh. “I’ll fetch the dawn lotus. It’s the furthest away.” She figured he had chosen it to avoid her more easily, which only made her angrier.

Dhaveira pulled the herbs out of the ground with a vengeance and dumped them roughly into his hands when he emerged. “There. You can brew the potion and then I’ll be on my way.”

His nostrils flared. “Inquisitor, there is no need for this – ”

“ _Petulance_? Is that what you were going to say?” She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Then is it not also childish of you to go out of your way to avoid seeing or talking to me for _months_? And then always trying to worm your way out of any task that involves us spending time together? I think _that’s_ more petulant, but then you know everything, don’t you?”

Her voice was beginning to carry across the courtyard, and Solas winced. “We would do better to discuss this in private,” he said stiffly, marching back to the rotunda and clutching the herbs so tightly they were nearly crushed in his palm.

Dhaveira let out a wordless yell of anger before following him, leaving a trail of sparks in her wake.

 

* * *

 

When she arrived back in the rotunda, Solas was already crushing the herbs into a poultice. “Would you mind passing a vial, Inquisitor?” he asked without looking up, lifting the mortar to observe the mixture more closely.

“Am I a servant now, _ha’raj_?” Dhaveira sneered, handing it to him with more force than was strictly necessary.

His eyes narrowed. “Clearly your lack of sleep is beginning to have adverse effects on your temperament. I will act as quickly as I can.”

“ _Tel’sildearelan_!” she yelled. When he met her gaze, Dhaveira was embarrassed to find herself starting to cry. “You don’t care,” she continued, even as her voice started to wobble. “You just carry on and you don’t care. You pretend I don’t exist.”

She was now sobbing in earnest, crying into her hands as she turned away from him. “You don’t care about me. You never cared about me.”

“ _Ar tel’dian_ ,” Solas whispered, and she felt a hand lightly rest on her shoulder.

“ _Ma harel_!” Dhaveira shook her head, wiping her eyes as the last of her tears fell. “You never loved me.”

“Dhaveira.” The sound of her name being spoken with such warmth from him was enough to make her jump. When she looked up, she saw Solas smiling at her, looking for all the world as if they had never broken up. As if he still loved her.

“ _Ar lath ma, vhenan_.”

“Then why did you leave?” she asked. His smile faded. “Why did you say we could only be together in another world? Why not _this_ one?” Dhaveira took a step backwards. “Did I hurt you?”

“ _No_.” Solas said, adamant. “You have never hurt me.”

“Do I… _disgust_ you?” He grimaced. “Is it the _vallaslin_? That you took it away? That I look ugly now?”

“ _Stop_ , Dhaveira.” He took a step forwards. “You are not ugly, and you never could be.” He sighed, looking so unhappy that for a moment she felt a brief, absurd pang of guilt. “None of this is your fault or your doing. It is mine alone.”

“But _why_ , Solas? Why do you keep lying to me? To yourself?” Dhaveira looked up at him. “Did you ever love me?” Her voice broke, and she was painfully close to crying again.

“Do you really doubt it, Dhaveira?” Solas looked despondent, so guilty that for a moment she pitied him.

Dhaveira sighed. “You do your best to flout my authority at every turn, making it _painfully_ obvious you don’t want to be around me when we complete missions. Has it occurred to you that maybe I require your magical expertise from time to time instead of _you_ specifically, or would that disrupt your god complex? You can’t even show me basic respect. Of course I doubt you ever loved me. I doubt _everything_ about you.”

Solas looked struck, but Dhaveira pressed on.

“You break up with me without ever explaining why, only becoming cagier the more I ask. One day it’s all smiles and kisses, the next it’s as if you don’t even know me. You’re distant. _Cold_. It’s like I don’t even know you, and now I won’t ever see you again. After this battle, if I even live, who knows if the Inquisition will still exist? We’ll go our separate ways, I’ll never see you again, and I’ll go the rest of my life knowing this was nothing to you.” Her eyes began to water, and she cursed, wiping them with the back of her hand so hard it stung.

“You’re not nothing to me. You change _everything_.”

“It’s too late, Solas,” she said sadly. “You’re just trying not to hurt my feelings, I know, but it’s too late. You already have.”

“ _Please,_ Dhaveira.” He reached out to clutch her hand, and she was too surprised to react.

“I promise you, should we both survive, I will give you the answers you seek.” Solas continued in a softer voice. “Whatever happens tomorrow, I don’t want you fighting Corypheus thinking I never loved you. _Ar tel’dian_.”

“So show me,” Dhaveira said stubbornly.

Solas kissed her softly, smiling as she gasped in surprise. “It has been too long,” he whispered mournfully, stroking her cheek gently.

He was about to kiss her for a second time when Dhaveira placed her palm over his mouth, stopping him in his tracks. He looked almost like a fish, opening and closing his mouth in surprise, and it was hard to resist the urge to laugh. “Why are you doing this?” she asked, frowning. “You can’t go from not talking to me for months to suddenly wanting to fuck me.”

He chuckled, shaking his head ruefully. “Who said it was _sudden_?” She looked at him with such surprise that he laughed again.

“You could have said something to me.” She crossed her arms. “You could have said you still loved me, or even that you just wanted a sleepless night together, no strings attached. Whatever it was, I wouldn’t have cared. But you didn’t say _anything_.”

“I am a coward. I cannot deny it.”

“You are,” Dhaveira agreed, and he offered her a half-smile.

“That’s one thing we can at least agree on.”

“Not just one.” She smirked at him. “If I’m going to die tomorrow, a night of hate sex is just the thing.”

“Hate?” He smirked back at her as she walked forwards, pushing him against the table. “So _this_ is how you wish to play it, _vhenan_?”

“Who said anything about _playing_?” Dhaveira straddled his lap, beginning to rock distractingly as he wrapped his arms around her. “If you don’t think you’re still in practise, I’ll just find another man around Skyhold. I know I could,” she purred. “They can’t take their eyes off me when I walk past.”

“They would be blind not to. Perhaps it is the one thing the _shemlen_ got right in this world.”

 “Oh?” She smirked at him, sliding a hand underneath his tunic and tracing circles over his abdomen. When he gasped, her smirk only widened. “You mean to tell me my fine apostate isn’t the slightest bit _jealous_?” She punctuated her words with a particularly hard rock of her hips, and his answering moan was _very_ satisfying.

“I cannot be jealous when there is no competition, _vhenan_.” Solas pulled his tunic over his head and threw it to the floor, turning her over to lie on the table beneath him. The mortar and pestle fell to the floor with a clang, instantly forgotten. “And I mean to prove the strength of that fact.”

“A _fact_ , hmm?” Dhaveira locked her legs around his hips and pulled him closer against her. “I need more… _proving_. Very _thorough_ proving.”

“You’ll get it.” His smirk nearly made her swoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Ir abelas, vhenan** \- I'm sorry, [my] heart
> 
> **Ha'raj** \- king
> 
> **Tel'sildearelan** \- one who feels no emotion; a less insulting word for a sociopath
> 
> **Ar tel'dian** \- I never stopped
> 
> **Ma harel** \- you lie
> 
> **Ar lath ma, vhenan** \- I love you, [my] heart


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dhaveira and Solas get down to forming the halla with two backs. This chapter is **NSFW.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who doesn’t like ending the month with a bang? ( ~~I’ll see myself out.~~ )
> 
> Prepare for upcoming angst in the next few chapters... ;-;
> 
> But for now, smut ;)

“Patience, _vhenan_ ,” he chided her as Dhaveira tried to yank down his breeches, gently pulling her hands away. She noticed his face was flushed red about the cheeks, which brought her no end of smugness. “Would you really have this night end so quickly?”

“It has been _months_ since you last touched me, Solas,” she groaned. “You can understand my impatience, surely?” She gripped onto his wolf’s bone necklace and gently pulled him closer until their faces were inches apart.

“I… can.” He hissed slightly as she ran the tips of her fingers softly over him, pressure as light as a butterfly’s wing, moving from his collarbone in a slow descent to his right hip before toying with the strings of his breeches once more.

“And you do not feel it yourself?” Dhaveira murmured with a raised eyebrow, resting her hand between his legs in a teasing gesture. Her smirk grew wider as she felt him move into her touch with a stifled moan. “I think you do,” she chuckled as she began to stroke him almost idly, watching the way her lover bit his lip so hard she feared it might burst.

“I…I….” He gasped as she moved her hand away and shifted to hold the back of his neck instead. “Why did you stop?”

“I took pity on you,” she said, kissing his cheek gently. “You wanted to go slow and steady, I assume, so I – ”

Whatever she might have said was lost to the void as Solas kissed her. It made her jolt as their lips met and then gasp as he gently deepened it, cupping the back of her head with one hand as the other moved in gentle circles over her stomach. She felt something begin to pool in her stomach and moved apart with a gasp for breath before laughing once more.

“You’re using magic, aren’t you?” Dhaveira asked him. When the sensation only grew stronger, she had her answer. “Is this payback for earlier?”

He gave her an enigmatic smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, _vhenan_ ,” Solas teased as he moved his attention to her breasts, playfully cupping them.

“They like it better if I’m naked,” Dhaveira murmured coquettishly, rubbing the small of his back with her heel as she winked up at him.

“Such a mouth.” Solas shook his head, smiling ruefully.

“You weren’t complaining when I used to have your cock down my throat.”

He chuckled. “I fear you have spent too much time with Sera, _vhenan_.”

“Oh?” Dhaveira arched a brow. “ _You_ haven’t spent enough time with _me_.”

 

* * *

 

 

For a moment, her lover froze completely; he relaxed as she laughed, though the concern didn’t quite fade from his expression. “Something we can work on resolving, hmm?” she said playfully.

Solas hoisted the hem of her nightgown around her hips, resting one hand on her inner thigh while the other gently pressed against her stomach. She felt the warm, tingling sensation grow more intense and moaned quietly, biting her lip.

“ _Resolving_?” he whispered, pressing his lips against her neck.    

“Don’t you _dare_ stop, you bas– _ahh_!”

Solas began to suck on her neck, gently at first but then harder and harder before finally biting her. Dhaveira let out a cry that he felt reverberate against his lips, a tangle of pain and pleasure that made her jolt into his touch; when he released her, offering a gentle kiss in its place, she sighed happily.

He peppered a trail of kisses from her neck to her collarbone and then dancing around her right shoulder, all the while lifting her dress higher and higher.

“You might as well just take it off,” Dhaveira suggested with a smirk.

He did not respond for a moment before gently lifting her up to pull the thing fully over her head, seizing the moment to lean closer and kiss her deeply once more. She wondered if he would kiss her until her lips were dry and cracked like bone but found she didn’t care.

His hand shifted from her stomach to her left breast, stroking her nipple idly while he propped himself up with his elbow and looked at her. “Now what?” he asked in a low, purring tone, the corner of his mouth turning upwards into a smirk.

Dhaveira had almost forgotten the effect the mere sound of his voice could have on her. It was a silky, poetic thing that was almost too sinful to air in public, so often had it turned her thoughts to depths that even the Maker would not dare to plumb; it tempted her so strongly that she half-wondered if he was aware of its dangerous effect on her and was consciously testing her self-restraint. The thought that he was possibly toying with her - and intentionally so - only made it far more delicious to finally hear him vocalise all the sordid acts she had imagined after so long in their absence, and she planned to relish every moment.

“Oh? I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

“Did you _plan_ this little encounter?” Solas raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing even wider.

“Not quite,” she admitted, “but my instinct led me here. So perhaps my subconscious was on the right track.”

“I see.” The hand against her thigh moved upwards, teasingly denying her by remaining just tantalisingly out of reach, avoiding what he knew she would soon beg him for. “And what are you thinking now?”

“I’m thinking you should stop fucking around and actually _fuck me_.” She pulled his breeches down in a fell swoop, hands already reaching out to touch him through his smallclothes when Solas stopped her in a volley of laughter.

“You sound worse than a fishwife, _vhenan_ ,” he teased, pressing a gentle kiss beneath her nipple.

“Months of frustration will make you blunt and desperate, yes.”

“Oh dear,” he said in an amused tone that only infuriated her further.

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

“I am doing no such thing.”

“ _You are_! Creators drag you to the Void.” Dhaveira pulled his hand upwards with a jerk, shifting it around her as she tried to imitate rubbing motions, but he gently extracted himself from her grasp.

“ _Patience, vhenan_ ,” Solas chided her, though the effect was somewhat ruined by his stifled laughter. “Let me see if I can find something that may… _assist_.”

He leaned off of her, hopping out of his breeches and flinging them away wandering around the room, murmuring words too quietly for her to pick up on while his brow grew more and more furrowed until he gasped with excitement and picked up a small tin. “Here!”

“What is it?” For all her curiosity, she could not help a small stab of fear.

He must have sensed her anxiety because when he returned, bending over her once more, he stroked her forehead soothingly and offered her a gentle smile. “You need not worry, _vhenan_. It is only a balm I have used on occasion to soothe aching joints after a battle.” His cheeks flushed as he paused, seemingly searching for the right words, and she was left intrigued. “I thought it might meet a better purpose,” he said finally, grinning at her like a mischievous child.

“Oh?” She grinned back at him. “And what might that be?”

Solas turned the lid in a clockwise motion until it came off in his hand, carefully placing it out of either of their reach before dipping his finger into the balm. Dhaveira saw sparks fly across its surface as it glowed purple for a second, raising an eyebrow at him as she looked at the tin warily.

“This will not hurt, I assure you,” he said, growing serious, “but if you do not wish me to use this on you, I will not be angry or disappointed.”

“Solas, you still haven’t told me what it _actually is_.”

“Ah.” He chuckled. “Something improvised, so I cannot vouch for its effectiveness, but it will produce a tingling sensation if I rub it into your skin. I thought given your previous, ah, _determination_ -” he stifled a laugh “ - that it might make the moment more _pleasurable_.” He emphasised the final word, offering her a truly wicked look as she finally understood.

“I’d like to try,” she smirked, rubbing his back with one hand as she moved to cup the back of his neck with the other, “but if it gets uncomfortable, please don’t go any further.”

“Of course,  _vhenan_ ,” he replied, solemn. “You have my word.” Then he bent down to kiss her neck, a soft flutter of warm lips against her skin that made her moan.

She felt him begin to touch her gently, his finger slowly moving up and down before gradually moving in circular motions, spreading the balm about her. It was a warm, pleasant sensation at first that grew in waves, and she was almost disappointed, having not felt even the slightest tingling at all.

“ _Patience_ ,” he murmured teasingly, sensing her frustration. She realised he was deliberately toying with her now, determined to draw out the teasing for as long as possible, delaying her gratification in order to build it up to the highest peak he could; effective, certainly, but it was _frustrating_.

He hadn’t said that she couldn’t retaliate, though, she thought to herself, smirking; two could play at that game. Perhaps he even _deserved_ it, in a way, for leaving her so coldly all those months ago.

Oh, yes, making him squirm and beg would be _immensely_ satisfying.

Dhaveira pulled his head upwards until their lips met, crashing against his mouth forcefully. As he moaned in surprise, she seized the opportunity to deepen the kiss, venting all of her frustration and loneliness into exploring him, making him understand that just as he could try to pull her pleasure tantalisingly just out of her reach, she could do the same, and twice as strongly.

Just as she had hoped, his movements grew more concentrated; the circles from his fingertip grew smaller, more urgent, though not rough or too firm.  

_Now_ she could feel the tingling sensation unfurling over her, bathing her in a wave of pleasure. “Go slower,” she insisted, tapping at his shoulder. “It’s not a race. I want to _savour_ this.”

“Your wish is my command, _vhenan_.” He could not know that she wanted to delay her release until he had almost reached his own, drawing out the same tantalising feeling in him before burying him deep within her.

She reached down to his smallclothes, and her sudden touch made him gasp. “Do you want me to?” she whispered, resting her fingers at the top of his waistband. He nodded furiously, so she pulled them down to his knees with a chuckle; seeing his growing urgency as he pulled them to his ankles and kicked them away before leaning back over her was quite amusing.

“Someone’s feeling a little left out, hmm?” She lowered her eyes with a wolfish grin, taking in the sight of him fully naked, now straining into her touch and turning a deep shade of crimson as she gave his tip a light stroke, a hint of what awaited him. “Perhaps not so little after all,” she chuckled.

“ _Vhenan_ -”

“ _Patience_ ,” she echoed back at him with a wide smirk, slowly moving her hand lower with a hum. As she began to gently stroke him, her grip gradually growing tighter as she moved up and down, he let out a loud groan and all but fell on top of her, propping himself up hastily on his elbow. “Don’t get _too_ excited,” she teased. “Would you really have this night end so quickly?”

He grew more flustered. “You are… you…”

Dhaveira pulled him into a kiss, less insistent this time but no less passionate, squeezing her legs around his hips as she rocked into his touch, urging him on. He obliged, speeding up his movements with every full circle, and the combination of speed, increased but delicate pressure and the balm still shocking her with each stroke left her gasping, clinging to him for dear life.  

In response, she inched her grasp up his cock in increments, moving from his base stroke by stroke until her fingers rested at the base of his head. Looking up at him, she saw his head tilted back, lips parted as he panted, bucking into her with a low whine when he realised she had stopped moving.

“You like this?” she murmured, leaning upwards to kiss his chest. It tasted salty, covered now in a sheen of fresh sweat as he shook under her touch.

“ _Yes_ ,” Solas breathed, grinning down at her as their eyes met. “You are… you are a goddess, _vhenan_.”

“A _goddess_?” she smirked. “I think I’d rather be a desire demon. They have more fun.”

Dhaveira peppered a trail of kisses across his stomach that made him jerk, moving from his chest to graze about his belly button before slowly gliding back upwards to suck his nipple; she continued to stroke him, twisting and coiling around his cock like a snake as she pumped up and down in earnest.

He yelled a string of Elvhen that she could not follow, though it was likely filthier than anything her Keeper would ever teach her.

“ _Jutuan ma ir rosas’da’din, ma tel’aman melin!_ ” Solas cried out. “Ah - _ah!_ \- _tel’dian!_ \- _nuvenan rosa’da’din in m-ma sule e-enan’ma!_ ”

“Uh-uh.” She let go of his cock gently as she shook her head, wrapping both her arms around his neck; he made a noise of protest, moving his hand away from her in confusion, so she kissed his cheek to soothe him, giving his hips a gentle squeeze. “Not before I do,” she murmured, and his whine turned into a laugh.

“You are a wicked woman, Dhaveira,” he whispered, kissing the tip of her ear before lowering his lips until they were inches from her own. “You _tease_ me.” She could feel the warmth of his breath as he smirked at her, stroking her hair while he gave her thigh a teasing swat.

“Only because you did.”

Solas laughed once more. “Perhaps you _are_ a desire demon, _‘ma’haurasha_.” She felt the tingling sensation grow stronger as his fingers returned, realising he was now amplifying it with his own magic. “But I will give you what you seek.”

As he lowered his mouth to hers in a gentle kiss, he quickly picked up the pace, rubbing her so intently that she cried out, biting down on his lip out of instinct. He moaned, moving faster as she bucked into him, rocking her hips into his touch as the electric feeling grew grew more and more intense.

It was enough. When Dhaveira finally found her release, her body grew taut as a bowstring while she jerked and trembled beneath him. As she yelled profanities and clutched him so tightly he winced for a moment, Solas stroked her more gently, sensing it would grow too much to bear.

“ _Creators - oh fuck - ahh!_ ” She batted his hand away as she sank into the desk, exhaling loudly as the last tremors of pleasure made her twitch and shake, unfurling through her like a slow-growing vine. Unable to take any more, she collapsed, her limbs falling like a wilting plant as she lay still, panting.

 

* * *

 

 

As she relaxed with a sigh, Solas chuckled, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. “You are a _vision_ ,” he said admiringly; when she opened her eyes, she saw him smiling down at her.

“Even covered in sweat?” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

“ _Especially_ then, given what came before,” he answered assuredly, eyes twinkling.

“Sweet talker.”

They kissed, enjoying the moment for a little longer, melting into each other’s touch as they embraced.

She felt his cock pressing against her inner thigh almost insistently and chuckled. “I had not forgotten you, _vhenan_.”

“Oh?”

“I wanted you to wait before you come inside me,” she smirked, and could not help laughing as his face lit up before he hastily tried to hide it. “I remember you said you wanted to take things slowly, after all.”

“I never said that.”

“No, you never _said_ it, true.”

They smirked at one another before laughing.

“ _Garas, aman ara’mis_ ,” Solas murmured. “May I?”

Dhaveira reached down to hold his cock, giving it a final, gentle squeeze as she guided him inside her; they both groaned at the first press of him as he slid inside.

“ _Emma lath, emma lath_ !” he gasped. “Ah - _ah_ \- you feel…” He let out a low moan, beginning to thrust himself in and out of her slowly.

“Do I feel good, at least?” she said teasingly, cradling his head in her hands while she clutched her legs about his hips once more.

“Oh yes. Oh _yes, yes_ , you feel…” He shook his head with a rueful smile. “I should not have left you.”

“ _That_ good?” Dhaveira arched a brow, and he chuckled.

“Do give yourself credit, _vhenan_.”

Solas put one arm beneath her while the other helped him balance against the table as he thrust in earnest now, determined to fill her, to _feel_ her, to let all that separated them fall apart; they needed to be whole and together, united once more, with no sign of where one body began and the other ended.

She cried out when he filled her to the hilt, and he gave her a moment to relax and become comfortable before moving once more.

“Kiss me,” she whimpered, and he happily obliged.

For a long moment, that was all they felt, all they _knew_ ; the feeling of their lips pressed together, tongues dancing and fluttering around each other as their kiss deepened. All the while, he rocked into her as she clung onto him tightly, moving her hips against his and leaving angry red marks where her nails dug too hard.

There were no words they would be able to describe the moment with, and none that could do it justice; to be together physically after so long apart emotionally was a pleasure beyond pleasure itself, something they would never be able to fully replicate again.

Not like _this_ , as they gasped and held each other tightly, their sounds of pleasure stifled as they kissed, then broke apart, then kissed once more, and once more, and once more.

Not like _this_ , as Solas felt his own pleasure growing and rising, and thrust harder and deeper into his _vhenan_ , savouring the sensation of her inner walls clenching around him as she wailed obscenities for all and sundry to hear, both uncaring of the possible consequences.

Not like _this_ , as Dhaveira felt herself being filled, and more so than he had ever done before, making her cry out in pleasure; he had been so gentle, so timid and cautious back then, holding himself back from her emotionally and then in bed together, but _now_ he crashed against her, moaning and grunting as the barriers fell apart; and it was _different_ , so beautiful that she knew she would weep at its ending.

Not like _this_ , as, for the briefest of moments, he let himself go. There was only her, only him, and only the desk in the rotunda; that was their whole world, reduced to that one pang of ecstasy as he finally came, spilling himself inside her as she marveled at how warm his seed felt.

Not like _this_ , when they looked at each other and their hearts burst.

 

* * *

 

 

“ _Ar lath ma_ ,” they whispered together, smiling up at one another, each feeling so safe, so happy, and so loved. They lay together for a long moment, feeling and hearing the beat of each other’s heart and their arms wrapped around each other’s bodies; and in that long moment, they each knew nothing but joy. Relief. _Love_.

Solas kissed her for the final time, a sweet and soft little offering before he collapsed against her, panting and closing his eyes as she wrapped her arms around him. “That was…. that…” He was unable to speak, giving her a gentle squeeze that he hoped would explain what he couldn’t with words.

Luckily, Dhaveira understood. “That was _incredible_ ,” she sighed happily, grinning from ear to ear. “Maybe we should go months without speaking properly more often.”

He laughed, a low rumble that reverberated against her chest; it tickled enough to make her laugh in return. “You are _wicked_.”

“Perhaps,” she said, smirking. “Want me to prove it?”

He shook his head, limply flopping back against her with a rueful smile. “I… I feel I cannot keep up, _vhenan_ ,” he admitted sadly. “I feel too tired - I couldn’t… I -”

“It’s okay, Solas.” Dhaveira stroked his head, looking down at him fondly. “I was only teasing. Maybe after we win tomorrow we can celebrate by rediscovering how we both taste.”

He choked as he laughed once more, rolling his eyes at her in mock frustration as she smirked at him. “You are _truly_ …” He sighed before slowly moving up to prop himself up on his elbows, looking down at her fondly. “I do not deserve you, _vhenan_ ,” he said quietly, face falling slightly.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She smiled back at him, swatting him teasingly, but her words were in earnest. “You’re not going anywhere. I am yours, and you are mine. Can’t that be enough?”

For a moment, Solas seemed unable to speak, lost in thought. Then he smiled down at her again, though she noticed it did not quite meet his eyes. “It is more than enough,” he murmured. “It is _everything_ . You… _you_ change _everything_.”

“You said that before, remember?” Dhaveira stroked his cheek. “Back in Haven… or Fade Haven, at least.”

“I remember,” he said, smile growing. “It has not changed, _vhenan_.”

She couldn’t shake the feeling of something missing, now she had seen his expression falter. It was almost as if he was perpetually on the brink of saying something before catching himself. She wondered if that was how their whole relationship could be summed up before squashing the thought deep inside her; it was too close to the truth.

“There’s something else, isn’t there?” she said quietly. And there it was again: the look of panic in his eyes as he weighed up his options, debating what the best - no, _kindest_ \- thing to say would be; and she realised she could not take it. “Give me the sleeping potion. I think I’ll go back to bed now.”

His face fell. “I see.” Moving slowly, as if weighed down by his own reluctance, he found the mortar and pestle, pouring the greyish liquid into a vial that he sealed before handing it to her.

Their eyes met, and he began to apologise. “ _Vhenan_ , I - ”

She held up her hands to stop him. “We’ll talk more tomorrow, as you said. I’m just tired.” The smile she gave him as she pulled her nightgown back over herself was apologetic, though also strained.

Solas nodded. “I hope you sleep well.” He leaned forward to press a kiss to her brow though stopped at the last moment, hesitant of crossing the new line that had formed between them.

Dhaveira pulled him closer, giving him a long, gentle kiss before slowly pulling apart. “Goodnight, Solas.”

“G - goodnight, _vhenan_ .” At the sound of his voice breaking, she turned away before she could break down at the sight of him, fleeing once more. She would always be running, she thought to herself as she made the lonely journey back to her rooms; always, unless he _let go_ . Until he could break down the last vestiges of his damnable pride and just _talk_ , spilling out the secrets he nursed so closely to his chest that she feared they might be bound there forever, there would always be a veil between them; something she could barely see, and sometimes did not feel until it was too late. None of the guards acknowledged her this time around, perhaps sensing trouble from her tear-stained face, and she was grateful.

 

* * *

 

 

When she reached her room, Dhaveira barred the door with a bang and covered her eyes, shaking as she sobbed. “You fool,” she cried out. “ _You fool_.” Whether she was speaking about him or herself, she could no longer tell; perhaps that was the closest they would ever get, she thought bitterly.

She placed the vial on her bedside table before starting in shock. There was the locket he had given her, back when everything was beautiful between them, all shared smiles and whispers and joy; a time so long ago it might as well have been _centuries_ ago. It was silver, with a green vine twisting its way from the centre up the chain; the grapes were represented by a series of glittering emeralds.

He had sent to Orlais for it, she remembered, and demanded they make it as close to the Dalish style of jewelry as they could: in the middle of the locket, inscribed in his own elegant, curling hand, were the words _Ar lath ma, vhenan_ in the old Elvhen writing.

Dhaveira did not remember putting it on her bedside table, but she supposed she must have; recently, she had grown sad, prone to remembering their time together with great pain, almost turning her suffering into an art form as she cried herself to sleep night after night, longing to turn back time. She was punishing herself for a fault she had not committed, but knowing that did not change how instinctively she slipped into despair. Cole had murmured words of comfort to her time and time again, and they _helped_ … but only in the moment. When he had gone, so had the momentary relief and distraction, and she was left to flounder once more as she nursed her broken heart and tried to attend to her Inquisitorial duties as best as she could.

It was too much after all that had happened. After seeing him properly again after so long, and kissing him, then making love - no, _fucking_ , rocking together like animals in heat - the sight of the locket and all the tenderness behind it made her ache.

Dhaveira collapsed into her pillow, shedding what felt like a valley’s worth of tears as she cried. When she had finally calmed down, feeling as if she had wept every last drop from her body, crying herself dry to the bone, she remembered what he had said.

_Should we both survive, I will give you the answers you seek._ At the time, it had been a comfort, though an uneasy, uncertain one. _At the time_ : strange how mere moments ago could feel like a lifetime away.

She hoped, for his sake as much as her own, that he had satisfactory ones.     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Ir abelas, vhenan** \- I'm sorry, (my) love
> 
> **Tel'sildearelan** \- one who feels no emotion; a less insulting word for sociopath
> 
> **Ar tel'dian** \- I never stopped
> 
> **Ma harel** \- you lie
> 
> **Ar lath ma, vhenan** \- I love you, (my) heart
> 
> **Shemlen** \- humans
> 
> **Jutuan ma ir rosas’da’din, ma tel’aman melin** \- I will make you cum so much that you won't remember your own name
> 
> **Tel'dian** \- don't stop
> 
> **Nuvenan rosa’da’din in ma sule enan’ma** \- I want to cum inside you until I spill out of you
> 
> **‘Ma’haurasha** \- my honey; can also essentially mean, 'You make me hard/wet,' because _haurasha_ is slang for precum
> 
> **Garas, aman ara’mis** \- Come, let me sheathe my blade in you; essentially, 'let me stick my dick in you'
> 
> **Emma lath** \- my love


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas leaves and Dhaveira is heartbroken once more.

“Darling? You’re not looking at your best, you know.” Dhaveira spun around to see Vivienne approaching. The older woman had a mixed expression of fondness and concern, but she smiled at the Inquisitor as she drew close. “Is everything alright?”

At first, Dhaveira had been a little afraid of her. _Everyone_ had been a little afraid of her. But she had grown to respect the so-called Iron Lady of Orlais quite a bit in the time they had got to know and work with each other, even if they did not always see eye to eye.  
  
How long had that been now? She tried to remember. One year? _Two_? Her Inquisitorial duties kept her in a flurry of activity to the point that, more often than not, she could not even recall the current day of the week.

After a while, that mutual respect had grown to fondness for one another, with Dhaveira growing to greatly appreciate her companion’s maturity and experience in courtly and noble affairs, to the point that sometimes she found herself thinking of her own mother back in the clan when she saw Vivienne approaching. Perhaps it was simply due to their difference in age, but the older woman made her feel calm and looked after in a kind of way few others among her group could, even if she loved them all dearly; perhaps it was also the no-nonsense, pragmatic attitude with an underlying softness, so reminiscent of her clan’s Keeper.

Whatever it was, she was grateful for Vivienne’s knowledge and assistance to the cause, and now she was deeply grateful for her comforting presence.

“No. Not really,” Dhaveira admitted, and her friend placed a hand on her shoulder and sighed.

“Come with me, dear. We can sort this out.” The Inquisitor found herself being abruptly whisked along to Vivienne’s quarters. Her companion paused when she saw a maid nearby and summoned her over. “The Inquisitor is currently indisposed. Please send word to Josephine and Leliana that she is relieved of her duties for the day.” The maid nodded and hurried away.

Dhaveira started. “Vivienne, I -”

“Nonsense, darling.” The mage turned round, offering her a sympathetic look. “You need _time_. If they come running for you, they will explain why to me, first.”

They carried on walking together in companionable silence. _Sometimes it was quite nice_ , Dhaveira thought with amusement, _to have an intimidating figure on her side._ It came in handy, from time to time.

 

* * *

 

The first scent that hit her on entering Vivienne’s room was a pot of green tea brewing on a table near the window. Dhaveira had heard the Empress of Orlais had a magical tea set with enchantments and glyphs that kept her tea always brewing at the right temperature, and it would not surprise her if her friend had a similar object in her possession. Sometimes it was hard to tell if Vivienne was simply imitating the courtly world or actually setting the trends herself; perhaps a mixture of both, she supposed.

Vivienne barred the door behind them and set up a ward - one of silence, Dhaveira noticed. “There. Nobody will disturb us now. Sit down, dear, and let me get you something to drink.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be any trou -”

“ _Darling_.” Her friend shot her a look. “Do you think I would allow you into my chambers if it was any trouble to me?” She softened, pulling up an armchair and patting it gently. “You’ve had a difficult time lately. Maker knows you’ve earned a little break.” The mage turned to her teapot, lifting the lid to give the contents a cursory check. “Would you like some tea? If you prefer a different flavour, it may take longer, I’m afraid.”

“Ah, what you have is fine, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, darling.” Vivienne poured the tea into two elegant-looking china cups and set them down at a table between Dhaveira and a second armchair before seating herself.

Dhaveira looked out of the window. “I didn’t realise you had such a nice view of the courtyard, Vivienne.”

“Of course! I have a nice view of _everything_ ,” her companion chuckled. “Your throne room gives me a chance to put names to the faces that come begging before you, but here I see the wheels of Skyhold turning.”

“I … see.” She picked up her cup, blew over the rim and gave the tea a cautious sip.

“Refreshing?”

“Yes, actually.” Dhaveira paused. “I, ah, never really had tea before,” she admitted. “I wasn’t sure what to expect.” It made her feel a little pang in her stomach for a moment; another reminder of how strange the world could be outside her clan. She wondered if she would ever get entirely used to it.

“Oh _darling_ , you should have _said_ something!” Vivienne sighed. “No matter, and no harm done. But I would have gladly given you anything else you preferred.”

“No, no, it’s quite al… _oh_.”

In her anxiety, her hand gestures had sent the cup flying, spilling tea all over Vivienne’s elegant carpet. The little cup cracked into pieces, leaving a greenish stain in its wake.

“I’m so, _so_ sorry,” Dhaveira wailed, putting her head in her hands. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me right now.” It was all too much; she could feel tears pricking her eyes and angrily wiped them away before they could fall.

She felt a cool hand on her shoulder and gradually grew calmer. Vivienne was pouring some kind of magic into her, Dhaveira realised, and it had a faintly blue glow. She had no idea what it was, but it left her far more relaxed in an instant than she would have been given time to calm herself down.

“It’s _okay_ , darling,” Vivienne said gently. “It’s all okay. Now, tell me what’s made you so unhappy lately.” She lowered her voice. “Is it _Solas_?”

_Oh_. How common knowledge was it that they had spent the night together? Did _everyone_ know? Dhaveira thought she had been so discreet, so careful to leave no traces…

None of that mattered anymore. He was gone without another word, and not even Leliana could track him down. _I don’t need to be embarrassed, I guess._

“ _Yes_ ,” she sighed. Before she knew it, Dhaveira was spilling out her heart, confiding in her every last moment up until the night they had spent together, then how swiftly he had abandoned her once more. “It’s like he never cared for me at all,” she whispered, so hoarse from near-crying that she found her voice fading away. It was all she could do not to cry in earnest. “Why does he keep toying with me like this? Is it some game to him? Am _I_?”

Vivienne listened carefully. “I’m sorry, darling. I truly am.” She offered her a sympathetic look. “I do not know why he chooses to act the way he does. Perhaps he is afraid; I could not speak for him.”

“Afraid of what?”

“That I cannot say. It may be he fears his feelings for you, for whatever reason. Or it may be that he fears _yours_.” Vivienne sighed. “Our Solas is … more complicated than I had imagined, but I could not say anything about him for certain other than that he is truly a fool to treat you the way he did.”

She gave Dhaveira’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You deserve so much better, darling. I am only sorry that you have not found the comfort in him you seek. You _deserve_ to be loved.”

Dhaveira began to cry, no longer able to hold back. As she wailed, Vivienne got out of her chair and knelt on the ground in front of her, pulling her into a hug. “ _There, there, darling_ ,” she whispered. “ _Shhh, shhh now. Don’t fret. I am here. It will all be okay._ ”

She could not say how long she wept for, simply hiding in Vivienne’s embrace and hearing the older woman coo simple words of comfort in her ear, but it certainly helped. By the time she eased herself out of the hug, emerging with hiccups and gasping breath as she steadied herself, Dhaveira felt as if an entire world had been lifted off her chest.

“I’m so sorry, Vivienne -” she began, aware that she likely looked a mess, but the other woman shook her head and placed her hand around Dhaveira’s cheek, giving it a gentle stroke.

“It’s _alright_ , darling. Do not worry.” Vivienne stood up, smiling at her. “I am sorry I could not do more.”

“No, no! _Please_ , you… you…” Dhaveira paused, looking up to meet her gaze. “You really helped. I haven’t spoken to anyone about it because it…” She trailed off, embarrassed.

“Because it hurts?” The mage finished for her. When Dhaveira nodded, her friend sighed sadly. “I know. It always hurts, doesn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

“ _Loss_.” Vivienne sat back down in her armchair, her expression unreadable. “I am… familiar with it.” She paused for a moment. “You do not get to lead the life I have done without making sacrifices along the way. Sometimes they are small, and you can brush them aside… but sometimes they are large, more difficult to forget.”

Dhaveira did not pry, waiting for her friend to continue, and so she did, growing quieter.

“When you met Bastien, he was dying. A sickness without a cure. In my arrogance, I thought I alone could save him, and it would be my knowledge alone that would bring about his cure.” Vivienne had requested Dhaveira bring her the heart of a snowy wyvern, she remembered, but had not explained the reason why; when they had arrived at the Ghislain estate, the mage had been so desperate for her lover to be healed, and yet he had died in her arms despite her best efforts. No wonder she sounded so bitter … and _sad_.

“I did all I could, and for what?” For a brief moment, Vivienne’s eyes flashed with rage. “I could not save him. _Nobody_ could. He was too far gone, but I could not see or accept it. I wanted it more than _anything_.” She sipped her tea. “Now he rests at the Maker’s side. He is at peace, and I… I have grown to be, too, in my own way.”

She lowered her cup, extending her hand across the table to hold Dhaveira’s. “It hurts, I know. Perhaps it always will, or perhaps it will not. But there are ways to live with it, as I do.” Vivienne gave her hand a little squeeze, smiling at her. “Do not forget I am here for you, darling, as you were there for me in my own hour of need. Whatever you need, you only have to ask.”

“I… I don’t know what to say. _Thank you_ , Vivienne.” Dhaveira squeezed her hand in return, and the other mage seemed content.

“Don’t mention it, my dear.”

 

* * *

 

 

They spoke together for hours, sharing their joy and sorrows in turn, and Dhaveira mused that it was perhaps one of the few times she had seen Vivienne really opening up at all. Madame de Fer was isolated from the rest of Skyhold by nature of her occupation, mannerisms and approach; perhaps she preferred it that way, but Dhaveira could not help wondering now whether her friend was actually _lonely_.

She did not mention really having _friends_ at court or in the Circle, talking about those she associated with more in terms of diplomatic pawns, connections and alliances, things to exploit or strengthen as the situation demanded, and one of the few people she mentioned with any level of emotion and affection was, naturally, her beloved Bastien. She could never entirely trust those she mixed with lest they tore her apart in the Game. For all that Vivienne had left the Circle and surrounded herself with the intrigues and power exchanges that made up the lifeblood of the Orlesian Court, Dhaveira reckoned all she had done was exchange an isolated cage for a more gilded and pampered one.

“What are you thinking of now, darling?” Vivienne asked, and Dhaveira was abruptly taken out of her reverie.

She didn’t dare voice her thoughts for fear of offending her friend, so she made up a lie on the spot.

“Hmm.” The other woman appeared unconvinced. “I can tell a bad lie before it leaves the other person’s lips, but I will not force you.”

Dhaveira felt guilty and was on the brink of apologising when someone knocked on Vivienne’s door.

“Inquisit - _aaah_!” There was a crackling sound from the other side of the door.

Vivienne sighed. “I had _hoped_ they would understand we were not to be disturbed. I apologise, my dear.”

“Did you… did you _electrocute_ him?”

“Nonsense! I just made sure whoever knocked on my door looking for you would regret it.” The mage got out of her seat gracefully and went to the door, placing one hand on the bar. “I do hope you have a good reason for disturbing us, my dear,” she called through the door, and Dhaveira pitied the servant. Nothing pleasant ever followed _that_ tone of voice.

“Apologies, Madame Vivienne, but Leliana requests the Inquisitor’s presence.”

“Don’t be too harsh on him, Vivienne,” Dhaveira said, getting to her feet and trying not to laugh. “It’s true. I should probably get back to work now. It was lovely to spend time with you, though. I really needed it,” she added.

“Very well, darling.” Vivienne nodded and unbarred the door, opening it to find a servant looking timidly back at her. “You may tell the spymaster that our Inquisitor will be with her shortly. Run along now.”

“Yes, Madame de Fer.”

As the servant scurried away, Dhaveira chuckled. “You didn’t have to frighten him so much, Vivienne.”

“I have a reputation to keep, darling. Now, business awaits.” She lowered her voice. “Remember, Inquisitor, I am here should you need me.”

“Thank you, Vivienne.” Dhaveira wanted to hug her once more but felt her friend would not appreciate such a public display, so she settled for a smile and wave before going on her way.

_Fenedhis. I completely lost track of time._ She could only hope her advisers were in a forgiving mood.

 

* * *

 

 

Solas had forgotten how cold it could get, camping outside with little more than a fire and wards to keep him warm. Or perhaps he had never really known; until only a few months ago, he had spent almost every single night by the Inquisitor’s side, falling asleep with ease as she wrapped herself around him, keeping him warm in their shared bedroll.

If they prepared enough in advance with wards, making sure they were not on watch at the time and checking their companions were fast asleep, there were _other_ ways of keeping each other warm. Those nights had been ones of muffled cries and choked-back laughter as they struggled to find a dignified way to disguise the fact they were essentially rutting like animals a few feet away from those they worked with on a daily basis, though their relationship was an open secret anyway. In the interests of propriety, though, they had to find ways to work around it.

Propriety was hard to hard to keep a tight grip on in the throes of passion, but none could argue he hadn’t done well in keeping things relatively discreet in their campsites. Stay as quiet as possible, keep the Inquisitor’s tent at a distance, make sure to wake up early enough to enter his own tent undiscovered…

All the steps he had gone to in hiding. He was _still_ hiding, and perhaps he always would. Now his _vhenan_ would never throw her arms around him once more, kissing him until they could both no longer breathe. He would never again see her smile, or hear the sound of her voice. The feel of her tongue on his, the touch of her hand, the way she made him feel _whole_ , even if only for a moment - these were all sacrifices he had to make.

Solas wondered if he would ever see Dhaveira again. Would she forgive him if they did? _Could_ she? They were questions that plagued him now, and they only gave him difficult answers.

He did not deserve such a kindness, but that had never stopped her before. She had bathed him daily in love and affection, simple acceptance of himself - no, the man she _thought_ he was. The man he desperately wished he could be. _That_ man would have fought the very heavens before he would let himself be parted from her.

_I am not that man._ He could ill afford any distractions now. She had swayed him from his path for so long without even realising what she was doing, and he had come _so_ dangerously close. It was easy enough to forget everything, to forget what once was and what could yet be, and simply lose himself in her; much like a dance, he had come closer and closer to her, inching his way towards the precipice. He could have kept dancing forever without realising he had never learned the steps.

Solas yelled a torrent of expletives, flinging his pillow at the side of his tent before instantly regretting it. Now he would have to leave his bedroll and walk up to fetch it, exposing himself to the cold night breeze. He gritted his teeth as he picked it up, holding a small ball of fire in his free palm to warm himself until he pulled the covers over himself once more, flames flickering out without a second thought.

_You have always been a coward._

It was true enough. Dhaveira was wiser than she knew; she had managed to pierce to the very heart of him without seeing the layers of mist and fog that encased it.

He sighed. Sleep would not come easily the more he kept her in his mind, yet he was unable to banish his thoughts of her.

If sleep would not come, he could at least do something useful. He pulled a robe around him, cinching it at the waist with a cord, and made his way closer to the fire. Solas dropped a mixture of herbs into the flames - if he could not focus properly in the waking world, he would need everything he could get to anchor him firmly - and strengthened the wards around him, checking for any faults and weaknesses until he was satisfied.

Then he closed his eyes and entered the Fade, searching for difficult answers. 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Fenedhis** \- a common curse word


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas carries on his travels while torturing himself with memories of Dhaveira.

He was not used to traveling alone, Solas admitted to himself as he rose from his bedroll, stretched and monitored his small camp. The fire had been a mistake; unthinking, he had grown cold and lit a bundle of sticks rather than producing a heat glyph, and he had not stopped to consider that the Inquisition forces might use it as evidence of his location.

_Fool_. He had forgotten… or he had preferred not to remember, the same way he always did. Dhaveira had distracted him for far too long, letting the last vestiges of his caution all but evaporate; had he not caught himself in time, he would have flung himself headfirst into her arms and snared himself forever. He had allowed himself to forget, to close his eyes and simply drift away, and now it was coming back to bite him.

He had only been gone a short while from Skyhold, Solas reasoned, and the _eluvians_ had allowed him to travel far beyond easy reach. Should the Inquisition forces eventually catch up with him, he would have long since fled. The lack of magic perhaps ruled in his favour, this time around - there would be no telltale signs or traces of him left for another mage to pick up on, and it could have been anyone camping there.

Still, it was a mistake he could ill afford to repeat. He dressed himself, frowning, and packed his belongings away into a small sack. There would be a lot of walking ahead, even with the mirrors on his side, and it would be wise to leave as swiftly as possible.

The sack felt surprisingly light. Solas gave it a little shake before pulling apart the drawstrings and peering inside. His supplies were growing low, he realised with a groan of dismay, and that meant only one thing: he would have to _hunt._

Hiding himself while wandering, cloaking himself in the Fade and using common sense to avoid other travelers was one thing; hiding himself in the form of a towering wolf designed to intimidate - without subtlety in mind - was very much _another._

Solas sighed. It would have to wait a little longer until he had put more distance between himself and the camp, at least until he came across another _eluvian._ In the meantime, he had bread, a small hunk of cheese and various fruits and nuts.

His vhenan would have been an expert at foraging, he thought with a sore pang. Her help would have been invaluable; Dhaveira was so at home in the woods and wild that he felt more like a child compared to her, seeing her instantly recognise good vantage points, the easiest spot to find a crop of berries, the most sheltered locations to set up camp...

 

* * *

 

**_“What are you making, vhenan?” Solas asked her with an amused smile. Dhaveira was grinding something against a small stone - an acorn, on closer inspection - and so thoroughly absorbed in her task that his voice startled her._ **

**_On seeing Solas approach with a wave, she grew calm and smiled back at him. “Food,” she laughed. “What does it look like?”_ **

**_“I’m not quite sure. I felt I should ask the expert first.”_ **

**_“You ass. Sit down, you’re blocking the light.”_ **

**_He watched her as she carried on grinding the acorn into a paste, her face screwed up in concentration. The tip of her tongue was poking out of the corner of her mouth, and she was seemingly oblivious. Solas wondered if she would be annoyed if he reached over and gave it a gentle tap with a finger..._ **

**_While he was mulling over the thought of teasing her, Dhaveira finished her project and handed the stone over to him. “Ta-da!”_ **

**_Her delight was infectious, but he was left none the wiser. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you want me to do with this,” he admitted, making her laugh once more._ **

**_“You never ground out nuts before?” His growing confusion only seemed to further amuse her. “Creators, Solas, you act like one of the_ shems _sometimes.” She brushed her hair out of her face before tapping the side of the stone. “See, you_ could _eat a nut without grinding it… but you’d only break your teeth trying. One of the little ones found that out the hard way, but it was only a milk tooth at least.”_**

**_She smiled at the memory, and for a moment she was lost to him, wrapped up in thoughts of her clan and the home he would likely never see. Then Dhaveira turned back to him with a chuckle: “That’s why you have to make them more… more_ pulpy, _for want of a better word. Easier to digest, easier to get all the good things in your belly, just_ easier.” _She mimed grinding a nut against a stone for his benefit. “Once that’s done, then you just scrape it off and - look, surely I don’t need to tell you how to eat, do I?”_**

**_Solas felt himself growing bolder now, spurred on by something he couldn’t quite place. There were none around to hear him, not in the little glade Dhaveira had found. His voice grew lower and quiet, barely above a whisper as he crept closer, lips now inches from her ear. He murmured something, leaning back with a mischievous glance and waiting for her response._ **

**_It took a moment for her to realise he was no longer discussing the acorn at hand. Predictably, Dhaveira made a noise somewhere between a yelp and a laugh and shoved him away, breaking out into a fit of giggling. The stone nearly slipped from her grasp as she laughed, and Solas caught her hands in his to save her efforts from being lost amidst the grass beneath them._ **

**_Once she had composed herself, she did not move to let go of his hands. “You’re wicked,” she said with a wry chuckle. “You can’t…” She had to pause for a moment; more laughter threatened to burst from her lips. “You can’t just say something like that!”_ **

**_“I said nothing untoward. You were the one who placed a meaning that was unintended.”_ **

**_“If that was_ unintended _then I’ll suppose next you’ll tell me every kiss was just you_ accidentally _touching my lips because you tripped.” She waggled her finger at him admonishingly, though her smile undid any threat she was trying to give. “You’re a crafty one, you are. All this playing around with words. You should’ve been a poet, you know. Or some bard or... the ones who talk a lot, whoever they are.”_**

**_“Me?” Solas was both amused and touched.  He placed a hand on her shoulder, failing to fight his growing smile as she leaned into his touch. “Vhenan, I would not do any bard justice. Poetry is a kind of deceit, a game, is it not? I have no training in the art of crafting meaning and response; neither could I make a nation sway to my words alone. Only a fool would cast me among their ranks.”_ **

**_“So you’re calling me a fool, then?” Dhaveira raised an eyebrow at him, and he knew he was lost. “Well, perhaps then you’ll show me how expertly you can make acorn paste yourself, then.” She handed him a fresh stone and two acorns. “Go on. Show me.”_ **

**_He hesitated. “Why are there two of them?”_ **

**_“You’ll mess it up the first time around. I just know.” She giggled at him as she dipped a finger into the acorn paste and eagerly licked it off, and for a while the only sounds around them were her laughter as he tried - and_ failed _\- to imitate her._**

* * *

 

The thought of his  _vhenan_ made him grow cold; guilt ran down his spine and made Solas shiver for a moment before he closed his eyes and shook his head.  _Harden your heart to a cutting edge._ Those were the words he had given Dhaveira a long time ago; perhaps he would do better to follow his own advice.

_Fool._

He shifted the weight of the sack more comfortably about his shoulders and walked onwards, using his staff to support him while he took care to avoid dirt patches and leave footprints behind. With a sigh, he felt the Fade energy crackling around him and drew it about his body, feeling wisps of magical energy fitting against him as snugly as any cloak as he gently redirected their path. That should help him avoid suspicion, should he be unlucky enough to find another person on his way; misdirection was simple enough to do with the right level of focus, and he knew how to make himself uninteresting enough to avoid detection even without the aid of his magic. 

As he wandered on, Solas found himself absently humming a tune Dhaveira had been fond of. It was a lullaby, the same gentle song he had heard even before the Veil, and he had found it remarkable that such a relatively simple thing had survived the passage of time when so much knowledge had faded and vanished. Perhaps that was why; mothers had the same fears and hopes as they rocked their cradles and soothed their babies to sleep both then and now.

The thought of Dhaveira rocking a cradle and hushing her own child to sleep was a sweet one, yet one that still made him sad. It would be such an easy future to have, and such a happy one... and it was one he would never deserve. 

_Focus._ Solas shook his head, desperately trying to clear his mind, yet it was like wrangling with a mythical beast; each thought of Dhaveira he tried to suppress, three more sprouted up in its place. If he carried on the same way he had the past few days, he feared he would only be able to scuttle back to Skyhold, tail between his legs, and beg her forgiveness. 

The sight of the  _eluvian_ in the distance was a welcome one, then; a brief respite from his long-lasting bout of self-torment and loathing, which grew stronger and harsher with each passing hour. Solas found himself moving with purpose now, striding effortlessly as he made his way over, filled with determination.

If none else would - or could - rise to answer his call,  _he_ certainly would.

He pressed a hand to the surface of the  _eluvian_ , checking it for signs of damage or decay, magical or mundane. The hand slipped through easily, though it was an uncomfortable sensation with the rest of him on the other side, almost as if he had plunged it into a pail of ice-cold water. Solas looked over his shoulder, half expecting to see her standing behind him, and sighed.

_Focus._

His mind clear, he stepped through the  _eluvian_ into the crossroads beyond.

 

* * *

 

Solas knew the routes like the back of his hand, having supervised some of the  _eluvian_ pathways being built... yet he somehow could not shake off the nagging thought that he had forgotten it all. He recognised it as a sign of guilt flaring up in the back of his head, desperately trying to get him to turn around, and it was something he could easily ignore and pretend was not there.

Ignoring and  _feeling_ were very different sides of a coin, though, and despite his best efforts, the thoughts never vanished entirely.

_You must focus, else you are lost_. Here of all places, it was crucial to stay alert and on guard at all times; he did not wish to inadvertently summon a spirit - or worse, a  _demon_ \- as a result of his strong emotions. Neither did he wish to attract the attention of a  _varterral_ , should there be one hiding nearby. The creatures would be little threat to him, yet it was wiser not to tempt fate: he could not predict how they would react in a Veiled world.

The temple's own  _eluvian_ had been shattered out of necessity to slow Corypheus down, yet it now brought a blow to his plans. He stopped and thought for a moment, trying to consider an alternative path.

It would not be easy. Whichever way he chose, it would still involve a more convoluted path than it might have otherwise.

**_For Mythal's sake, are you going to actually walk or just dither around thinking about it?_** He could practically hear Dhaveira chiding him as he carried on, trying to find the right  _eluvian_. Not for the first time, Solas wished his kin had placed more faith in the physical and tangible than memories and magic alone; the lack of written signs made things more difficult, certainly. 

**_Look, if you just stop pretending you know everything about everything and ask for help, it might be easier. Did you consider that, mighty_ hahren?  _Forgive me; I forgot I was talking to an omniscient being._** She had chuckled, trying to take the sting out of her teasing words as she patted his shoulder and smiled at him. It was a look full of affection.  ** _You know a great deal about.... well, a great deal. And I love you for it, believe me.... but no one man alone can know the secrets of the universe._** Her hand slid into his as she grew suddenly shy.  ** _That's why we're a team, aren't we? If we work_ together,  _we can make the past as clear as today. You don't need to do all this alone._**

"You might change your mind if you only knew,  _vhenan_ ," Solas murmured aloud as the memory disappeared. She had held such faith in him, such complete and unconditional support in his research efforts and magical endeavors, that it hurt to think how badly he had shattered it. The night before the battle, he had felt her uncertainty, her fear and confusion, the tangled mess of emotions that now pulsed through their every interaction...

And yet she had still come to him, had still sought out his comfort. She had still  _trusted_ him, even after everything he had said and done, and she had even shared his bed. Perhaps she had held faint hopes of him resuming their relationship. Yet another thing he had thwarted and broken, it seemed. 

 

* * *

 

 

The sound of approaching feet had him instantly on guard, standing still and tall with his staff readied. "Who goes there?" Solas called out in a clear voice, though he heard a note of fear in it.

" _Ir abelas_." The hooded stranger approached with hands raised and offered him an apologetic bow. "I did not wish to alarm you."

Solas recognised the voice with relief, lowering his staff instantly. " _An'eth'ara_ ," he smiled. _"Nuvenan ma son._ _Re on se sal'vhella._ " 

Abelas nodded. " _Re on._ _Annaren vya den nual i elvar._ " He paused, his face clouding with regret. " _Iros ys unlaim._ "

" _Banal'halam._ " 

"I fear it may. Each time we reawaken, I notice how much has faded." Abelas sighed. "They do not understand, they cannot grasp the  _magnitude_ of what they cannot experience. It is just words and legends to them, and they do not feel the knife that twists inside us. I... I teach them, but I have failed them, too."

"No, my friend. You have  _served_ them." Abelas looked uncertainly at him as Solas continued: "There will be a way to serve once more, should you be willing. A way to _save_ them."

"A way?" For a moment, there was only silence as Abelas thought. "You cannot mean -"

"Precisely." 

"Would it - would it  _work?_ Would it truly restore what was?"

"I cannot say for certain," Solas admitted. "I can only hope, and learn, and try to fix this mistake."

"You should not blame yourself. You could not have realised -"

"Yet that does not erase the blame. I  _must_ do it, that is clear. I will find a way." He paused. "I cannot force you to follow me, and neither can I tell you it will be easy. I would not give you false hope."

"You do not need to ask," Abelas said quietly. "I  _serve_. That is my purpose. I serve the will of Mythal, and I believe she would wish justice for the People. They are but shadows of shadows now; if there was a way to help them rise once more, to restore and protect the truth, then I believe she would want it done."

"You would serve me, then?"

"I would serve you both." 

Solas nodded. "Very well.  _Jushivanir i juvasreir esh'ala o'es'var ariaris_."  

" _Jushalir_.  _Var'dirth'vhen'an bellanaris._ " 

They stood together quietly for a moment, thinking about all it would -and could - mean.

 

* * *

 

 

"There are others who will heed your call," Abelas murmured. "You need only say the word, and they will answer."

"Elvhen such as you?" The memory made Solas smile slightly.

"Elvhen such as I." 

"First, we will establish a base. Somewhere my allies can freely group and travel to, protected constantly by magic and man alike. Then I will call them."

"I know somewhere that may serve."

"Good. Take me there, if you would. Perhaps on the way you could tell me how you came to the crossroads from the temple with no nearby _eluvian?"_

Abelas chuckled. "It is a long story, I'm afraid."

"We have a long journey. A good story would be fitting, I believe."

As Abelas lead him away, beginning to talk freely for perhaps the first time in several years, Solas was filled with hope. It could work, after all; a better world could be forged from the ashes of the old, rising like a phoenix for his people. The world that should have been, had he not acted, and the world that would return in his atonement: the  _true_ world.

His people would gain their birthright, their immortality restored along with the old magic. The spirits and living would no longer live in discord and divided worlds but alongside each other in harmony, as it should have always been. The world would be at  _peace_. 

He could have the life with Dhaveira that she deserved and no longer fear the moment of her death, a pain from which he could never recover. 

It was  _perfect._

His mind whirred with plans and ideas as Abelas guided him onwards, and for the first time in days, Solas knew only the joy of possibility. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Ir abelas** \- I'm sorry
> 
> **An'eth'ara** \- Greetings
> 
> **Nuvenan ma son** \- I hope you are well
> 
> **Banal'halam** \- essentially, 'nothing [truly] ends'
> 
> (These below are my attempts at writing my own phrases using Project Elvhen so they're probably not perfect - I'm sorry if it gets wonky!)
> 
>   * **Re on se sal'vhella** \- it is good to see you again
>   * **Re on** \- it is good
>   * **Annaren vya den nual i elvar** \- the years were upsetting and difficult
>   * **Iros ys unlaim** \- much has decayed and been lost
>   * **Jushivanir i juvasreir esh'ala o'es'var ariaris** \- we will do our duty and free them from their many cages
>   * **Jushalir** \- we will protect
>   * **Var'dirth'vhen'an bellanare** \- our oath [is] eternal
> 



End file.
